End of Days
by wingedraksha
Summary: When your boyfriend is accused of murder, life gets fairly unpleasant. Especially when you're the real killer. And when said boyfriend goes nuts, breaks your heart and then vanishes without a trace? Well. Bad. Sequel to 'Ask Me No Questions...'
1. Realize

AN: People seemed to enjoy my strange titles in the beginning of Ask Me No Questions, which I kinda forgot to continue, so I shall do my best to keep them up in this segment of my saga. Oh, and also, I read a couple stories with lyrics at the beginnings of chapters, and I really liked the idea, so I'm gonna start doing that as well.

To bring you up to speed:

_Caleb, Pogue and Tyler are hit hard by his absence, still caught in charges of kidnapping and murder. Kat is devastated by his betrayal and his disappearance, trying to deal with her father's questions and her own police suspicion. Reid himself is alone, on the run, and haunted by the demons of his own Power. The Daughters of Sappho are torn, struggling to decide whether or not to help the Covenant. _

Chapter 1: A Rude Awakening, or 'What Happens When _Bad_ Gets A Whole Hell Of A Lot _Worse_…'

_This is a war which we never, ever, never thought we'd win._

_But when I lose… will I try again and again?_

_But please, forgive me when I'm gone:_

_I know that I've done wrong._

_-Call On My Lover, by 33 West_

In all honesty, Kat thought the whole idea of 'puppy love' was a bunch of bullshit. What, did emotion not become real until after the age of twenty-one? Hand in hand with the legality of alcohol. Hmm. How convenient. She shook her head sardonically, a twisty little smile on her face. Her father glanced at her down the table, and she could see the battle taking place behind his eyes: ask his newly pensive, mysterious daughter about what had made her expression so hard and bitter, or let it go for his own safety?

Silence.

The sound of clinking silverware as he carefully scooped up some more potatoes. Kat felt like laughing. Of course he hadn't asked.

He had no idea how.

He was always so good with dealing with the good times. He was even good at cheering up a glum Kat after a long, tired day or a particularly annoying class. But this… He had no clue how to deal with this quiet, pained Kat, the Kat who blatantly kept secrets from him and who was under suspicion for _murder_, of all things.

It had been some hours since Reid had ripped her heart out and discarded it at his feet. The phone had rung twice more after Caleb, and she had not answered it. When he'd called her to pick it up, Kat had pointedly ignored her father.

Now, at the dinner table, spooning tasteless vegetables and some kind of white meat into her mouth, she could feel each bite travel down to her stomach and add to the queasiness there.

"May I be excused?"

"Yes," he said quietly. She felt bad, bad for the way she was treating him, but still she got up and walked from the table.

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_How long does it take to get from Massachusetts to California? For-freakin'-EVER, that's how long. _Reid was pulled over near a gas station in Berkshire County, Massachusetts, staring in unmitigated horror at the 95¢ map of the USA he'd bought after filling his tank. He'd known California was on the other side of the country, but… it was on _the other side of the country. _He counted eleven states in a straight line between him and his destination.

"Could I fly? No, they could track a plane ticket. Fuck!" He slammed a fist against the steering wheel, not at all pleased with this realization. "Ok," Reid sighed. "Chill out, man. Calm down. Be zen."

Being zen, as Reid discovered, is a lot easier when you don't actually have a reason to try it.

Tossing the crumpled map onto the seat beside him, Reid started the car and pulled onto the road, heading for Connecticut. He figured he could cut through the south corner of that, take the Jersey Turnpike past New York and get into Pennsylvania. From there… Well, he'd figure it out then.

Reid turned on the radio, playing with it until he came across a generic rock station.

"_If you ever come anywhere _near_ me again, I'll make your death so long you _beg_ for it, and I'll enjoy ever last second." _

Kat's voice came into his mind with no warning, the animal fury and hatred not lessened by memory. His hands clenched on the wheel.

"I'm sorry," he said aloud, as if somehow she could hear him.

_**No you aren't. You enjoyed it. You **_**loved**_** hurting her.**_

_Fuck you. _

_**It'll take you how long to get across the states? A week, at least. That's plenty of time. You don't stand a chance.**_

_I'm beating you. I will beat you._

_**You won't even realize it when you lose. And then, we'll go back to quiet little Ipswich, and we'll kill your friends. Every. Last. One.**_

_Stop. _

_**They don't use the Power they've been given. It's disgusting. Make them appreciate it. Even if that takes… hard measures. And Kat? That two-faced bitch. Literally. I mean, come ON. She has to die.**_

_STOP._

The voice went quiet, but for how long? How long could he take this?

A week.

An endless, endless week.

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"Kat! Open up!" She started awake, rolling off her bed and landing in a less-than-graceful sprawl. Immediately, Kat was on her feet and at the window. Caleb was there, hovering outside the glass, eyes black.

"What the hell?" The window was locked, but she could hear him through the panes.

"Open the window." Blinking angrily, she swung the window open, clipping him in the shoulder unremorsefully. She stepped back grudgingly, realizing that it would not help their case if someone should see the suspected arsonist and kidnapper floating outside the window of his 'victim'.

Caleb climbed into her room, wincing as she reached around him and pulled the window shut hard against his elbow.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said quickly, before she could speak. "But you wouldn't answer your phone."

"So you thought flying to my window was a better idea? Who are you, Romeo on drugs? What are you _doing_ here, Caleb?!"

"I need to talk to you."

"Obviously. Now is not a good time, ok? I'm busy being _really pissed off_," she finished harshly, folding her arms stand-offishly.

"I know you're mad at Reid."

"Mad? Mad?" He sighed.

"I know you're really, really mad at Reid."

"Go away, Caleb. I do not want to talk about this with you."

"There's something you don't know. About Reid."

"Let me guess," she said, a little wildly. "He's gay and you're his one true love. Which wouldn't explain the pre-disaster sex, but-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Caleb held up his hands a bit frantically. "He's not gay, I'm not gay, and I don't want to know _anything_ about pre-whatever sex! Now just be quiet and _listen to me_!" Kat closed her mouth reluctantly, the line of her jaw hard and unyielding.

"Remember what I told you right before you went in to get Reid out of that house?" Slowly, taken aback, she nodded. Caleb rubbed a hand across his eyes. "I was right. Reid's ascension was extremely traumatic, and he was already close to addiction before-hand. It looks like the shock of even more power has created… a _rip_ in his psyche." Seeing her uncomprehending look, he elaborated. "It's created another personality. One that's made up entirely of magic and darkness, steeped in the agony he must have been experiencing when he ascended as Mary was torturing him. This second personality doesn't give a damn about morality or human bonds. It cares about power, and destruction, and pain."

Kat found herself on the floor for the second time that night, her legs having crumpled beneath her.

"You're saying he's…" She trailed off, horrified. She remembered black, unholy eyes in an unconscious body. A chill shuddered down her spine, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up straight.

"He did whatever he did to you because he was trying to protect you, Kat. He thought that by making you hate him, he would keep you from going after him."

"Going- going after him?" The older boy nodded.

"He's gone."


	2. Deal

Chapter 2: Too Much Confusion, or 'How To Deal When Your Life's Insane'

AN: My lovelies, I've just returned from seeing my favorite band live! Flogging Molly played at the Dublin Irish Festival, and I managed to find a way to go! WooHOO!!! Front and center, baby… Plus, I got hugs and photos with them after the concert! Ok, ok, on to what you're actually interested in. (FM will be featured throughout this chapter… sorry…)

_I want to believe in myself once again,_

_So I dream of a man whose hopes never end…_

_But as darkness falls, I return to my bed-_

_Don't ask me more questions, don't fuck with my head!_

_Black Friday Rule, by Flogging Molly_

Reid splashed his face again, the cold water a harsh wake-up to his nerves. He looked up into the small mirror on the wall of the unisex gas station bathroom, seeing the circles under his eyes and the manic set of his features. He raked his hair back, dropping his hands to let it fall back in the exact same wave of blond. Suddenly, that hair annoyed him. It mocked him, going back like that. No matter what he did, it always looked the same: thick white-blond, a smooth, straight brush across his forehead.

Turning away from the mirror, Reid stalked out of the restroom and made his way towards the door. A girl heading for the check-out counter halted abruptly just before Reid slammed into her, and he caught himself just before tripping over his own feet. Murmuring a hasty apology, he whipped around her and was out the door. If he had looked back, he would have seen the way she stared after him, her wide eyes locked on his retreating back.

As he started his car and pulled onto the highway, the girl was pulling out a cell phone. She dialed quickly, her hair sheeting across her face as she ducked into a corner of the gas station.

"You aren't going to believe this," she said hurriedly.

Meanwhile, Reid was shuffling through the CDs he'd left in the glove compartment of the car the last time he'd 'borrowed' it, pulling one out blindly and sliding it into the player.

_  
Would it make you happy if  
Everyone around you smiled?  
Then you wouldn't have to hide  
The world'd be yours  
And you'd be mine.  
I'd be your Prometheus stealing  
From a nuclear sky.  
I'd be your insecure hero  
And you would be mine._

Kirk McLeod's voice filled his ears, and Reid reached out to switch the track. The song made him think of Kat; her shattered expression, her cold bravery.

Instantly, the fast, frantic fiddling of Bridget Regan wiped away the image in his mind and replaced it with a frenzy of punk and dancing feet. As the gravely voice of Dave King split the air, the fear and uncertainty seemed to crack and fall away for the moment.

_I'll wait for you till I turn blue,_

_There's nothin' more a man could do!_

_Don't get your bollocks in a twist;_

_Settle down, don't take a fit._

_Ya drank with demons straight from Hell-_

_They almost nearly won, as well._

_Ya wiped the floor with victory,_

_Then puked until ya fell asleep!_

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_Too many sad days,_

_Too many Tuesday mornings._

_I thought of you today;_

_I wished it was yesterday morning._

_I thought of you today,_

_And I dreamt you were dressed in mourning._

Kat was packing, her backpack open on her bed. Scythian was blasting in the background, hiding the sound of Caleb's fervent arguments and Kat's equally fervent rejoinders.

"Damn it, Caleb, I'm going after him!"

"You can't go after him! You don't know where he's going, what he's doing. You have no idea what's going through his head! You're already in enough trouble, Kat, you don't need any more!" He reached into her bag and pulled out the crumpled shirt she'd just thrust in, tossing it back to her. Kat snarled at him and put it back, along with a pair of jeans and a bra.

"You can't want him to go off alone!"

"Of course I don't! There's nothing we-"

"You can't leave; you're their chief suspect now that Reid's gone. The police will be looking for him, and-"

"No, they won't," Caleb interrupted. Kat paused mid-rant, confused.

"What?"

"They won't be after Reid," he repeated a bit sheepishly. Kat peered at him.

"What did you do," she asked finally.

"Not much. Nothing that can't be fixed. It's not even permanent. It's the best I could do. The last thing we need is a bunch of cops going after-"

"I don't even want to know," Kat decided. "I don't know how the hell you managed it, but if it's not permanent, that's all the more proof that I need to find him! You can't leave, or you would have already. Tyler's still in the hospital, and the others are too hurt to do anything. I'm the only one who can get out. I'm the only one they have nothing on. It has to be me; you know it does." She accentuated her point by stuffing a sweatshirt into the backpack and zipping it up ferociously.

"You don't know where he's going," Caleb tried again, futilely. He watched as Kat swung the backpack over her shoulders, slipping a folding knife and a lighter into her pants pocket.

"I am the wolf," Kat replied softly, and there was a wildness to her that some deep-seated, instinctive part of Caleb recognized and celebrated. "I'll find him."

He left then, pausing in the window frame to give her a nod.

"Call me as soon as…"

"I will."

When she was alone, Kat picked up a piece of paper and pen from her desk.

_**Dad-**_

_**I know I promised I'd explain, and I didn't. I know you don't understand any of this, and I'm sorry for that. I wish there was more time. You told me once that there was only one thing worth everything, and that was love. I've always listened to you, you know… and now, I'm doing what you brought me up to believe is right. I'm risking everything, and I hope that, even if you don't know the details, you'll realize that I'm risking it for something you taught me. I love you forever. **_

_**I know you don't want to hear this, but there's a chance… Well, more than that. I might not be coming home. I don't know what's going to happen where I'm going, but I just want to come to terms with the fact that I might never see you again. If that happens, I want you to know that you are the best dad I can imagine. If I'm brave, it's because you taught me courage. If I'm smart, it's because you helped me learn. God, you must be shocked reading this… I'm never so sappy. Don't worry, I didn't have a lobotomy while I was away. It's still your Furball talking. Hell, I must be worrying you even more by acting so out of character. Shit. This is not coming out like I wanted it to.**_

_**I'd better end it here, before I get lost in whatever point I was vaguely trying to make.**_

_**I know you wanted a new start when we moved to Ipswich, and I ruined that by getting caught up this mess, but I can't honestly say I would trade it. Remember when we had that argument about destiny? You thought it might exist, I thought it was a load of- Anyway, I've been thinking. Maybe you were right. Maybe there's such a thing as fate. Maybe my destiny has always been to do this, and maybe yours was to raise me to be able to do it. Or maybe I'm just a wild card, like I always thought.**_

_**Your daughter,**_

_**Kitty Teague**_

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Danny Teague finished reading the letter his seventeen-year-old daughter had written, and placed it neatly back on her desk. He felt a strong sense of deja-vu, remembering the sucking vacuum of despair he'd felt when Kat went missing. Nothing made sense. He'd lost her, his baby, and then she'd come back to him, and now she was gone again. It almost felt like a dream, a strange nightmare reminiscent of the crazy hallucinations he'd experienced during his teenaged years, experimenting with LSD.

_I might not be coming home._

The confusion, the pain… it swirled inside him and drained away, leaving a hollow kind of loss.

_You told me once that there was only one thing worth everything, and that was love._

There was some secret in her writing, in the words she used. It was fierce, and proud, and stirred something long-forgotten in her father. The sense of loss was struggling with something, something very new or very, very old.

_Maybe my destiny has always been to do this, and maybe yours was to raise me to be able to do it._

That word.

Destiny.

Danny's breath was coming harder, his nostrils flaring. He recalled Kat's pale face, her fiery eyes, and the feral flare she'd worn like a cloak upon her mysterious return. He didn't know what he was thinking, but his gut told him it was dangerous, and secret, and ancient.

"Good luck," he whispered to his child's empty room, seeing not the bland walls or furniture but instead the open window and haunting moon. "Wherever you're going."

Then, he placed a call to the Ipswich PD, calmly informing the irate officer in charge of the case regarding the house on Knight Street that he'd had his daughter flown to California to stay with her mother in order to deal with her symptoms of PTSD, and that if they wanted to talk to her again, they could damn well send her an email.

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Songs:

1. You Would Be Mine, by Seven Nations

2. Salty Dog, by Flogging Molly

3. Tuesday Morning, by Scythian (I saw them live as well, so I thought I'd include them…They are quite awesome.)


	3. Run

Chapter 3: On the Run

_I run to you,_

_Call out your name…_

_I see you there,_

_Farther away._

_Farther Away, Evanescence_

_So maybe this could have been better planned._ Kat coughed. She was standing in the gas station on the far side of town, having asked if anyone who worked there had seen a guy with white-blond hair and a fancy car. No one had, and, as she was now realizing, she had no idea what to do next. Tracking someone over ground was one thing. Tracking someone with a car heading God knows where?

Entirely different.

"Hey, girl, need a ride somewhere?"

"I doubt it, as I don't accept rides from anyone with an IQ of less than 75," she replied on a turn, expecting to see the stereotypical trucker with a tattoo and a beer belly. Instead, Kat found a young man with long reddish brown hair and a crookedly sheepish smile watching her from the drink case.

"Damn, I leveled at 70," he answered, before clearing his throat. "Um, I'm gonna write up a contract saying I didn't just say that, and have you sign it." Kat pursed her lips, amused despite herself.

"Don't worry about it." He held out a hand.

"Leks Smythe." Kat shook it quickly, scrambling for a fake name.

"Isabelle Lindt," she said after a moment, her eyes lingering on the bowl of chocolate truffles on the counter behind him.

"Nice to meet you, Isabelle."

"Yeah," she agreed a bit absently. Her mind was still on ways to track Reid, and the frustration that came with cluelessness.

"So, you sure you don't need a ride? I promise I'm not a psycho." She laughed involuntarily.

"With my luck," Kat began, and then stopped herself. "Anyway, I'm-" She stopped when her pocket vibrated, and jumped about a foot in the air. Pulling out Caleb's cell phone, she stared at it for an instant before answering it hesitantly. _How the hell did he slip that in my pocket?_

"Hello?" Leks took a few steps backwards, giving her a funny little bow.

"Kat. It's Caleb."

"How the-"

"Doesn't matter. Listen, I think I know where he's going. I can… feel it, a bit."

"Where?" She saw Leks glance up at the tense note in her voice, and ignored him.

"California. He's going to California. He's driving, so it'll take him a week or so."

"Ok. Thanks."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'll fly. I have money."

"Kat, plane tickets can be tracked!"

"I don't care if they can track me. My dad will take care of it."

"You can't know that."

"Yes, I can."

"How? How can you possibly-"

"I trust him, Caleb. He'll do what he can to protect me. I have to get to Reid, and soon. I have no chance following him by car; I don't know his route. Do you know where exactly he's trying to go?"

"I think he's trying to find the priestesses, the ones who came for Mary."

"Ok. I'll go there, then. Maybe they can help me." She hung up before he could say anything more, and stuck the borrowed phone back in her pocket. Looking up at Leks, Kat bit her lower lip. "If you're still offering, I could use a ride to the airport," she said quietly.

"Yeah," Leks replied slowly. "Sounds like you really could."

"So?" He studied her face for a moment, and in the slanted mirror above the long fridge filled with beer, she saw what he saw.

_White skin, very pale. Dark hair, spilling around slender shoulders, one white streak twisting down the back. Large, secretive eyes, shadowed with exhaustion and anxiety. Everything about this girl screams _help me

_Everything about this girl screams _run away

Leks gave her another crooked smile.

"What the hell. I've always wanted to help a damsel in distress."

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When they reached the airport, Kat climbed out of the old-fashioned pickup truck and waved at Leks through the passenger-side window.

"Thanks," she called. She heard a bang, and spun around to see him locking the door and coming around the side of the truck.

"Let me walk you to your flight, at least," he said kindly. The mild flirtation was out of his voice now, replaced with sympathy and curiosity. Kat shrugged.

"Sure." They strode across the parking lot, past a shuttle and a few stragglers, and into the airport.

"Where are you headed?"

"California," she answered after a moment's thought. "Sunny California." After buying her ticket with the credit card her father had given her for her seventeenth birthday, Kat turned to Leks.

"Thanks again," she told him. "I mean it."

"No problem," he said, rocking back on his heels. "Not like I had anything better to do. I mean, you're a hell of a lot more interesting than X-Box." She laughed.

"Believe me, if you only knew…" Suddenly, a hand flew out of the crowd of people heading for the plane gates and slammed into Kat's throat. She stumbled backward, pressed into the wall by a middle-aged man with a long beard and an abandoned suitcase. His hands went to her throat, his face twisted with a terrifying kind of blankness.

"Die, bitch," he hissed at her. Kat choked, clawing at his fingers. They didn't budge. Her vision was going spotty, her ears ringing. She vaguely saw Leks ramming the stranger from behind, trying to knock him away from her. Someone was yelling. Kat's survival instincts were taking over. She could feel herself tingle with the Change, and gasped desperately for air as she struggled to push it down. Her fingernails thickened into claws, ripping trails of crimson across the man's hands and wrists. She was beginning to black out, her lungs screaming for air. There was a scream. Drawing on all the strength she had left, Kat slammed her knee into the man's groin. He let her go, falling backwards to the ground and sitting there like an overgrown baby with a horrible expression of agony mixed with pure confusion as she slid to the ground.

Kat coughed painfully, taking in huge gulps of air. Beside her, Leks wrapped an arm around her shoulders and helped her stand. A crowd of people had gathered around, and soon an airport cop appeared on the scene. Kat ducked her head, letting her dark hair cover the one white streak as well as her face. She let Leks lead her away, ignoring the cried from the cop and the crowd. As soon as they were out of sight, Kat rubbed the rising bruises on her neck and leaned against the wall, still breathing deeply.

"What the hell _was_ that," Leks asked fervently, no hint of a smile remaining on his face.

"I have no idea," Kat replied softly, her throat aching. "I have no idea."

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**So, what do y'all think of Leks? Good or evil? Let me know what you think is going on with the random attack in the airport, too… Cake and soda to anyone who gets it right… **


	4. Love

Chapter 4: The Nature of Love

_You know how hard it can be  
To keep believing in me  
When everything and everyone  
Becomes my enemy and when  
There's nothing more you can do  
I'm gonna blame it on you…_

_- 'Opheliac', Emilie Autumn_

"Really," Kat repeated. "I'm fine." She and Leks were sitting, the latter still a bit shaky, in front of the terminal for her flight to California. The plane was scheduled to leave in about fifteen minutes, and she couldn't convince the young man that she was fully recovered.

"Isabelle, that guy was nuts! You could have been killed!" He was in favor of getting her checked out at a hospital, but Kat was fervently against _that_ idea.

"I've been through worse," she tossed out, surreptitiously rubbing the place in the middle of her chest where she'd been shot. Leks raised a brow disbelievingly.

"When?"

"You'd be surprised," Kat said with a wry smile. "Anyway, I _have_ to be on this plane. Thanks for everything, Leks. You have no idea how grateful I am." He was silent for a moment, his clear features tightening in thought.

"Are… are you in trouble? Like, real trouble," Leks clarified hesitantly. Kat glanced at him out of the corner of her eye before dropping her gaze to her hands. The bandages were gone, replaced by fresh pink scars. Fast healing: a perk of the chronic fur. Leks followed her gaze, reaching out carefully to touch the largest of the new scars, one that cut jaggedly across the base of her left palm and tipped, lightning-like, near the web of her thumb. He pulled his finger away quickly, and Kat sighed.

"I'm not the one in trouble," she said at last. In answer to his questioning look, Kat went on. "Someone- someone else is. He needs help, and no one else is going to give it to him but me." She could hear, in her own voice, that 'is going to' should have been 'can'.

"What's going on," Leks asked softly.

"He's… confused. And scared. And he's alone; he thinks no one is coming for him."

"Except for you."

"Except for me. He doesn't know. He- he thinks I hate him," Kat added with a swallow. "He doesn't want me looking for him. He tried to make me never want to see him again, just so I wouldn't follow him."

"Why?" Kat traced the ragged little scars across her palms, breathing slowly.

"Because he's afraid."

"Do you think he's afraid of what _you'll_ do when you find him," Leks began, "or what _he'll_ do?" Kat blinked hard, smiling a little.

"That's exactly what I'm wondering."

"Isabelle," the young man said seriously, "is this person dangerous? Could what happened back there have something to do with the fact that you're looking for someone who doesn't want to be found?" Kat started, both from the unfamiliar name and the idea he presented.

"What? No! No, of course not. Re- he would never do that. Never." Even as she said it, Kat's mind whirled with uncertainty.

_This second personality doesn't give a damn about morality or human bonds. It cares about power, and destruction, and pain._

"He would never," she repeated, much softer.

"But could he?" She turned to Leks, eyes veiled. No answer. "Isabelle, maybe this isn't the best idea. It's none of my business, yeah, but seriously."

"It doesn't matter. I have to find him."

"Why? Why not wait, get someone to come with you? Someone who knows him, who can deal with-"

"No one can deal with him," she whispered harshly. "No one but me can handle what he- what he is."

"Then why are you so scared of him?"

"I'm not scared of him. I'm scared of-" Kat stopped abruptly. _I'm scared of what I might have to do._

"Of what?"

"Nothing. I'm not scared of anything. I trust him," she finished defiantly, realizing that, despite everything, it was still true.

"Should you?," Leks asked, sounding a little strangled. _God, this must be so strange for him,_ she thought. _I must seem like a lunatic._

"Probably not," she admitted. "But that doesn't matter now."

"What, have you passed the point of no return?" His voice was sarcastic, fed up. Kat glanced at the wall clock. Two minutes.

"That's one way to put it," she replied.

"So basically you're going after someone unstable who doesn't want you coming anywhere near and could easily hurt you, who you really shouldn't trust at all, alone, and you're not even gonna rethink _any_ part of this plan?" Kat sighed, turning to face Leks completely. She took his hands in hers, her pack instinct telling her that touch would reaffirm communication.

"Don't you see? It doesn't matter if it's stupid or pointless or dangerous. It doesn't matter what other people say. All that matters is that this is what I have to do."

"But _why_," Leks begged, sounding like a cross between a small child and an old man asking why death has finally come.

"Because he's as much a part of me as these scars," she murmured, standing as the woman behind the counter called for passengers to board. "Losing him would kill me. Isn't that the nature-" Her words were cut off by a large man wheeling a suitcase who shoved past her and barreled towards the gate. Kat followed him, not looking back. Any goodbye had already been said, and felt. Behind her, Leks stared after the girl with the long dark hair and big dark eyes.

"The nature of love," he finished for her. "Isn't that the nature of love?"


	5. Interaction

Chapter 5: All The People

_I'm trouble  
Yeah trouble now  
I'm trouble ya'll  
I got trouble in my town  
I'm trouble  
Yeah trouble now  
I'm trouble ya'll  
I got trouble in my town_

_- 'Trouble', by Pink_

Reid opened his eyes, a dull pain pulsing just above his brows. Raising his head, he realized that the pain came from the large steering-wheel-shaped bruise that now covered most of his forehead. He'd fallen asleep leaning his head against the wheel, and now a horizontal red bar was branded across his forehead from temple to temple. Groaning more in annoyance than pain now, Reid rubbed the tender mark before shaking himself, doglike, and settling back into his seat.

He was almost in Pennsylvania now, with roughly four more days left before he reached the California border, if he stopped only when absolutely necessary. His hands, as he set them back on the wheel, felt cramped after only a day and a half of driving. His legs were tight and restless, and Reid had to get out and stretch before his body would allow him to do anything else.

The unsettling feeling of not being alone in his own head was noticeably absent, Reid discovered as he got back into the car. The presence that haunted him was, it seemed, still sleeping. Reid sneered to himself; he felt rejuvenated after a dreamless night, and stronger, somehow. There was something… some kind of feeling that was so subtle he couldn't really name it, but definitely unfamiliar. Almost as if someone was… looking after him. Whatever it was, it gave him the energy to start the car and pull off the shoulder with a decisive whoop, almost like the old Reid.

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"So what are we doing?"

"I don't know," Caleb responded with a sigh. "Keeping ourselves out of prison, I guess. That's kind of top priority right now." Tyler grunted, crossing his arms. The usually-simple maneuver was made more difficult by the bulky cast that still enclosed his right wrist.

"What about Reid? Are we just gonna-"

"We can't do anything for him from jail," Pogue interrupted blandly, leaning against a slab of stone. He glanced at the empty corner where the fourth member of their quartet normally would have been sprawled. "Besides, Kat probably has a better chance of stopping him than any of us."

"I don't know about that," Caleb admitted. "It was hard enough for me to stop Chase, and I'm the strongest of all of us. Reid by himself is fairly strong, plus the ascension and the second personality's complete lack of remorse. I don't know if Kat is ready to take him on."

"Then why did you let her go," Tyler asked, frowning. Caleb shrugged.

"Because honestly, I don't think I could take _her_ on without one of us getting seriously hurt. She may not have the Power, but she's pretty tough all on her own. And I don't think she would have held back from hurting me however bad she needed to, if I stood between her and Reid." Pogue grinned a little.

"Lucky boy," he commented. "Hope he can hang on to her."

"Hope he can hang onto him_self_," Tyler corrected darkly. Then, lighter, "But you know, I think Kat can take care of herself, at least until we get this cleared up and we can help her."

"So," Caleb continued, "on to more pressing matters. Like, what exactly are we gonna tell the police? It was almost impossible to wipe Reid out of their minds. No way are we gonna be able to do it for the rest of us, too."

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"So are you visiting or going home?" Kat opened her eyes blearily, turning her head to stare at the young woman sitting next to her.

"Neither," she answered, shifting in her seat. The woman, barely more than a girl herself, cocked her head.

"First time to Cali?"

"No," Kat said firmly, hoping that this would give the stranger a hint. She was not in the mood for chitchat; she was in the mood for _sleep_. Nice, nonthreatening _sleep_.

"I've never been. My mother lives there; it's why I'm going. My dad and her got a divorce last summer and the custody battle finally ended up tossing me across the country," she finished sullenly. Kat eyed her, finally taking in the curly hair, carefully-made-up eyes and pouty lips.

"I'm so sorry," Kat replied flatly, turning her head to look out the small airplane window. She felt a modicum of guilt, but then remembered the idle bit of talking she'd engaged in with Leks before he'd offered her a ride: she'd used up all her chitchat energy for the day. Maybe for the week. There was nothing to feel guilty about in ignoring this brat.

"Yeah, it really sucks," the girl continued blindly. "I had to leave all my stuff behind; it's getting flown out in, like, a _week_. Is all your stuff on the plane?" Without pausing, she went on. "And my dad is being a total asshole and not letting me bring my car with me."

"Oh," Kat said noncommittally, hoping it would be taken for a grunt.

"It's a 2005 Porsche, too. Bright blue. I got it detailed just last fall. I got _so_ mad when he said I couldn't just fly _that_ out here as well as all my-"

"Oh, shit," Kat interrupted, rubbing at her hands. "My liaphornitious is acting up again." The girl stopped mid-squeal and blinked suspiciously.

"Lia-what?" Kat glanced at her hands worriedly, and bit her lip.

"Liaphornitious. It's a rare skin disease that involves toxins leaking from your pores. It's really itchy, but at least there's no rash this time… This one time, I was making out with this really cute guy, only my liaphornitious spread and he, like, totally got it all over his face. Anyway, I'm Kat," she ended sweetly, grabbing for the girl's hand. "Nice to meet you!" The girl yelped and jerked her hand out of reach, swallowing.

"…Oh," she said finally. "Well."

When Kat closed her eyes again, she was uninterrupted.


	6. Rape

Chapter 6: Two Minds, One Body

**AN: THIS IS THE OTHER REASON I RATED THIS FIC M!!! I mean, it could be a lot worse, but just be warned. There's some touchy-touchy here, and I mean real stuff, rather than my admittedly nonexistent sex scene from Part 1.**

_I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed  
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.  
(I think I made you up inside my head.)_

_- Mad Girl's Love Song, Sylvia Plath_

_Fingers on her… feathery, light. Warmer than warm and cold as ice, tracing the veins in her wrists and the downy hair on the back of her neck, the sleek ridge of cheekbone, the soft slant of eyebrows. Breath, like the whispers of a fading ghost, tickles her skin. A voice murmuring too low to hear, a hungry, pleased sound. _

_Lips press searching kisses to her face, her throat, her chin, her collarbone, seeking downwards towards the sudden looseness of her blouse. Trailing up, they meet her own and tease out a small sound from her, a helpless echo of lust. Anger sparks, and uncertainty, and pride; she turns her face away and tries to push at this unseen lover, but her eyes are blind and her fingers touch nothing but air and hands are warm and sure on her wrists, holding them, trapping them. _

_Loose, thoughtless now, she drifts as heat spirals down and a clever tongue finds her breasts beneath her shirt, a soft wetness that suddenly is harder as she (though motionless) presses the warm head closer, and teeth scrape her, roughly intimate. She catches her breath, arching her hips unconsciously as the hands leave her wrists and travel down to her hips, lifting her top, putting pressure on the groove between her hipbones and her bare waist, the thumbs stroking beneath her navel. Tongue following the line of her jugular as it pulses beneath her taut skin, up her chin, to her mouth. Hands circle ever lower, dipping beneath the waistband of her pants and brushing against the coarse hair there, lifting the elastic band of her underwear. Light touches, stroking with increasing pressure and then letting off, enticing her. Air blown coolly on her eyelids, into the hollow where her shoulders meet her neck, between her breasts, across her nipples. Sudden chills wrack her spine, arching her up to meet the hands that wait to slip and slide across her body with torturous ease. The shudders that foretell a Change, the aching ecstasy of sharpening, thickening teeth, the breathless hiss of ribs expanding. Those warm, unrelenting fingers know her body, her Change, and they explore this new halfway form with wicked joy. Teeth of equal sharpness drag across the softness of her belly, drawing a harsh, wild cry from between her not-quite-human lips as the coppery scent of blood slides lazily into the air. Slick and hot, she feels her own blood trickle down her stomach from the new scratches there. Mouth open, she bows her head to the quick, rough tongue that dances with quick, rough lips and draws pictures of destruction across the back of her neck. _

_Fingers tear the thin, weak elastic of her underwear, sliding down to the sweet, soft flesh of her inner thighs and finally, finally, touching the center of the burn that threatens to consume her. The mouth then goes where the fingers have gone and she's crying out, now, a howl or a scream, her spirit straining against the confines of her flesh._

Kat woke with a start, the bittersweet taste of a scream still building in her throat. She breathed in huge gulps of air, taking in the oxygen as if it would erase the memory of fingers on her, fingers that knew every inch of her, and a mouth that could dominate her completely. The plane was darkened, the girl beside her asleep. The change of planes had been at least two hours ago, and they should be arriving in about thirty minutes, if her watch was right. Kat closed her eyes and let out a breath, trying to focus on the thought of reaching California rather than the dream.

Dream?

It had been so _vivid_, so _real_. She could still feel… And it had been so familiar, somehow. She _knew_ those hands, that clever mouth. Or was it just her mind supplying the touch? But… no, it had to be a dream. A dream born of… what? Fear of losing control? That had to be it. Kat couldn't remember the last time she'd had a sexy dream where she'd been so… so…

Submissive.

Still, a shudder ran through her as she recalled the blinding ecstasy that had come with the submission, the way her body had exploded with sensation beyond her control as those so-familiar fingers touched her. But there'd been no _face_. She'd been blind, literally, to this manifest lover. Kat shook her head. Reid? Had she dreamed of Reid? _I would have seen him. It would have been… different. I know what sex with Reid is like, and it wasn't anything like… like that._ With that thought came the unbidden whisper that she'd _liked_ the dream, and the feeling of giving up power. The feeling of being dominated, rather than doing the dominating, or sharing equally. Kat shied away from the thought and swallowed hard, shifting in her seat.

_Just a dream. Forget about it._

She crossed her arm over her stomach and winced at an unexpected twinge of pain. Slowly, disbelieving, Kat slipped her fingertips under the hem of her shirt and rolled it carefully up to reveal her belly…

And the two small, fresh scratches just above her navel.

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Reid woke up with a snort and a jerk, the blaring horn of a passing 18-wheeler jolting him from his nap. He was pulled over by the side of the interstate highway, just as he'd spent the night before. For some reason, he was feeling awfully tired. Probably just leftover symptoms from his magic-induced stay in the hospital.

He blinked, rubbing a hand across his eyes, and let out a breath. That had been some dream. So vivid. He had to laugh, though… Kat would _never_ be such a bottom, sex-wise. If ever there was a dom, she was it. He sighed, the dream hazing over, but then frowned a bit. There'd been something a little weird about it. Almost as if… he was an _onlooker_, rather than the one pinning Kat down.

**Oh, get over it, **the voice said snidely. **Might as well stop thinking of her altogether, boy-o, 'cause we both know she won't last long once I win this little war once and for all.**

_Not happening._

**Oh, don't worry, **it continued, a sly note entering the tone, **I've changed my mind a little. We're not gonna **_**kill**_** her. Just… alter her, a bit. **

_What are you talking about?_ Reid merged out onto the road, accelerating fast.

**Well, I've decided I kind of like the new-and-improved version of our girl Kat. After all, she can be quite… obedient, don't you think?**

Reid's hands clenched on the wheel, a sudden suspicion filling him.

_No. No._

The voice laughed, all at once mocking, triumphant and lusty.

**Oh, yes. What, did you think it was **_**you**_** fucking her? Oh, wait, let me guess… You thought it was just a **_**dream, **_**right?**

_You- _

**Watch the road, Reid. Wouldn't want to crash before your little girlfriend finds out what you **_**really**_** are. She didn't like what I did to her, did she, do you think? Or maybe she liked it more than she'll admit. Maybe she liked **_**my **_**version of you **_**way**_** better than the original.**

_Shut up. Shut the FUCK up._

There was no reply, only a lingering sense of cruel satisfaction. Reid felt the rage burning in him, impotent and out of control. The rear-view mirror reflected his eyes, black and cold and furious.

All the power in the world at his fingertips….

And he was utterly helpless.


	7. Intervene

Chapter 7: Friends in Strange Places

**Sorry about the looong wait between chapters, mes amis… I… am a terrible excuse for a writer. But I love you! So review!!!! Also, thanks to everyone who has been reviewing, because I really live for you all. (Do you sense a theme here?) And heyyy, new character alert… Oh, on the bright side, I have successfully mapped out where I want this story to go, so updates should not be ridiculously long spaces apart. Hopefully.**

_Best, you've got to be the best.  
You've got to change the world  
and use this chance to be heard.  
Your time is now._

_-from 'Butterflies and Hurricanes', by Muse (one of the most amazing bands ever)_

Regina Mason was not familiar with the roadways of America. Her father, the American science teacher who'd moved to France for the sole purpose of escaping his small-town upbringing (and who, in fact, had thrust everything the US had ever taught him aside, including the language itself), had never even told her the name of the town he'd spent his first two decades in. Now, stranded in the States, she wondered again why exactly she'd chosen to come _here_ after graduation.

She'd spent a few days with Aunt Leigh in Boston, and then had decided to spend the remaining three weeks of her vacation wandering around the East Coast. Her funds wouldn't _quite_ pay for a three-week jaunt across the USA… Regina had, however, refused to even entertain the thought of calling across the Atlantic to ask for more money. The Ward would not only laugh at her, but they would say… They would say…

_We told you so._

Still, part of her whispered, they would be right. She'd decided to come to her father's homeland before completing her initiation into the Ward against both his wishes and those of her mother. Not enough money to see everything. Not enough relatives to stay everywhere. Not enough anything to keep the boredom at bay. Besides, they'd said, Massachusetts is… dangerous. She'd laughed, Regina remembered, at that. How the hell could a state be dangerous? They'd just pointed at the map on the wall, where certain spots were marked with bright red push pins. There were four pins on Massachusetts. Still, even with the danger presented by the unstable power located there, Regina had wanted to go. _C'est pas un problem_, she'd thought. Whoever the power sources were, the four boys the Ward had known about since their birth eighteen years before, she could handle them. Besides, she wouldn't even run into any of them. They were in… what was that little town called, anyway? Ip-something. Ipson?

So she'd been completely ready for an uneventful few weeks across the pond, before returning to the interesting, if not really active, job that awaited her entire family.

And then, of course, had come the gas station. The Snickers bar she'd been about to buy.

The blond boy who brushed past her, whose face rang one hell of a bell.

After seeing him, she'd immediately called her Aunt Leigh.

"You're not going to believe this, but…"

"But what?" Regina's mouth hung there, open, waiting for her tongue to generate the words… but they wouldn't come.

"But I think," she said, after a long moment, "that the East Coast is just as boring as Dad made it out to be. Oh, sorry, traffic light is green. Gotta go." She hung up on the confused Aunt Leigh, snapping her phone shut with a kind of wild, almost scared, excitement. She could barely believe what she'd just done. One of the _garçons _her grandfather's book featured was here, most definitely not in Ipson, alone, looking decidedly freaked out, and she had lied about it to her conduit to the Ward.

_Not lied, exactly. More like… omitted. _

Regina swallowed a bit. Her father's voice echoed in her head.

"_Regina, cherie, n'oublies pas… si tu voix quelqu'un que t'interesse, dis-moi. Tu sais sur quoi je dis."_

"_Oui, Papa, je sais, je sais."_

She had promised. Anything _interesting_ interesting, and she was to call home immediately.

Or not.

_I can use this,_ she thought, the excitement growing. _I'll prove to them that I can take care of myself, _and_ I'll find something they didn't know. I'll figure out what's going on with this guy before any of the others, and then they'll _have_ to let me make my own way. _ Regina glanced out the wide glass window of the gas station, and saw the sleek, fancy car peel away onto the road, the blond head bent as if against the wind. Dropping the Snickers bar back onto the shelf, the brunette walked quickly out of the station and to her own rented car.

Game on.

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Reid glanced over his shoulder, preparing to swing back onto the highway, and noticed something he hadn't seen before. A few hundred yards back, someone else was doing the same thing he'd done: a fairly old Taurus was parked alongside the road, headlights off. He shook his head.

"Hope you had a better night than I did, man," he grunted, eyes darting to the fast traffic. "Come on, you bastards, let me in," Reid muttered. Finally, he spotted an opening… and almost drove right into an 18-wheeler going 80 miles per hour. The truck blared out a honk as Reid slammed on his brakes and hit the back of his seat with a jolt. The front of his car was inches away from speeding traffic. His heart pounded.

"Jesus Christ," Reid gasped, feeling like his eyes were going to burst out of his head. His breathing was erratic and panicked, and inside, the Other snickered.

**Good nerves, boyo.**

A few minutes later, there was a lull that allowed him to slip into the flow of cars heading west, and Reid did so smoothly, his heart still thudding heavily. He breathed in deeply, letting his nerves calm themselves. Behind him, the Taurus was also pulling into traffic as the light broke across the sky.

About half an hour later, Reid was again forced off the road, this time by his stomach. He pulled into one of the ubiquitous rest stops scattered across America, parking outside the nameless food court and attached gift shop. Reid got out of the car, checking his wallet as he walked. He still had his credit card, and about thirty bucks in cash. He was fine.

Nice, being rich.

Returning with a muffin and a cup of steaming coffee, Reid was about to set the coffee on the hood and open the driver-side door when a voice from behind him called his name. There was an instant of shock, where, in between suddenly slowed heartbeats, Reid thought it was Kat's voice calling him. But no, of course not, of course not her. The voice was higher-pitched than hers, and tinged with an accent.

"Reid Garwin," it came again. The 'r' in 'Reid' was thicker than he was used to hearing it, and the last syllable of his last name drawn out oddly. He turned slowly, the cup and muffin still in his hands. A girl with a vaguely familiar face and light brown hair was standing a few feet away, in front of the reddish Taurus he'd seen earlier.

"Hey, are you following me," he began to ask, but she held up a hand.

"My name is Regina Mason," the girl said, and her accent became clear to him: French. "From… from the Ward." Reid stared blankly. She looked like he should know what she was talking about. Reid furrowed his brow. He felt torn between wanting to laugh at the crazy girl and leave, and hearing her out. The Other was strangely quiet, which was nice, and she'd known his name…

"And…"

"You do not know of the Ward?" She sighed shortly. "The descendents of John Hale." Another blank look. The French girl, Regina Mason, stared at him incredulously.

Reid curled his lip in disgust, and felt a curl of pride when she (almost invisibly, true) tilted slightly away from him. Still, the girl rallied, and gave him the final clue.

"The Reverend John Hale, _imbécile_. As in, the witchfinder who convicted most of those women in Salem four hundred years ago."

Before his body tensed in an automatic fighting stance, Reid almost dropped his coffee.

_**C'est pas un problem: It's not a problem**_

_**Garçons: boys**_

"_**Regina, cherie, n'oublies pas… si tu voix quelqu'un que t'interesse, dis-moi. Tu sais sur quoi je dis.": "Regina, dear, don't forget… if you see something that interests you, tell me. You know what I'm talking about."**_

"_**Oui, Papa, je sais, je sais.": "Yes, Papa, I know, I know."**_

_**Imbécile: imbecile (come on, you knew that one…)**_


	8. Alliances

Chapter 8: Surprise All Around

_Ev'ry night the tears come down from my eyes,  
Ev'ry day I've done nothing but cry.  
It won't be long yeah, yeah._

_- 'It Won't Be Long', The Beatles (Across the Universe)_

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"_Attendez_! I don't want to hurt you!" Regina held up both hands, the snooty look falling off her face as if it were stone dropped into the river of her skin. She looked breathless, and Reid had the feeling that she had no idea what she was doing... and that that was a dangerous thing.

"Well, great, me neither," he replied, tense.

"That was a bad way to put it," she allowed, taking his momentary silence as permission to continue. "He made a mistake. Hale, I mean. After they realized what they had done, Hale and another of the witchfinders went back to Salem, to try and right the wrong. Ever since, his descendents have dedicated their lives to watching and protecting those with the Power." Reid snorted.

"Fat lot of good your _Ward_ has done us," he drawled, letting his body relax. He'd heard the ring of truth in her accented words. The girl folded her arms defensively.

"We've been in Europe." 

"Oh, ok, then. You guys live it up in France while _we_-" Reid stopped abruptly, aware of how close he'd come to snapping out a sardonic description of the events that had led to his current situation.

"Well, I'm here now." He blinked at her, but the serious look didn't leave her face.

"That's fantastic. I'm leaving." Regina stepped forward, grabbing his arm. At her touch, Reid flinched away despite himself, the Other shading the back of his mind. Ahh, so it hadn't left, after all. Just sat back to enjoy the show. Her hand on his forearm was warm, solid, real. In the instant before he twisted away, Reid could actually feel her warmth seeping into his skin, could feel the tangible difference in temperature between the two of them. It made his skin crawl: how cold _was_ he? How much of his body heat was being used to fuel his suddenly hyperpowered mind? He knew that, after _using_, the four of them were often tired and cold, almost sluggish, depending on how much energy they had devoted to supernatural means. But this... he hadn't even been _using_.

"Let me come with you."

"Ex_cuse_ me?" That breathlessness was back in her expression and voice, and in that moment, she looked like nothing but an excited little kid.

"Let me help. It's obvious that something is wrong. It cannot be coincidence that I ran into you here, so far from your niche."

"My what?" Regina shook her head, waving it off. Reid spoke before she could continue her plea. "No. Hell no. I don't need your help." She put her hand on his arm again to turn him around as he ducked to get into his car, and Reid snapped his other hand over and closed it over her wrist. He removed her fingers from his arm, letting her go as soon as she was no longer touching him. Just as he was about to close his door, heavy footsteps interrupted the girl as she began, in hurried Frenglish, to speak.

"This guy bothering you, kid? Need someone to teach him his place?" It was an older man in jeans and a flannel shirt, steel-toed workboots clomping against the pavement. Reid craned his head up to look the man in the face, glancing between him and Regina. The French girl looked so surprised and put out by the interruption that it was almost comical, and Reid had to fight back a laugh.

"_Non_," Regina said finally. "He is my... cousin. My very _dear_ cousin."

"If you say so," the man said amicably enough, gleaning from her flashing eyes that she didn't require any more assistance. He ambled off, and Regina bent at the waist to talk to Reid as he convulsed with helpless snickers.

"That was _not-_" She broke off, her mouth dropping open in shock as Reid's laughter stopped, and his convulsions turned real. Spit bubbled against his lips, his eyes rolling back as he slumped against the steering wheel. Reid's voice was silenced, his mind overflowing.

**Now!**

_No! Stop! _

**You're weak. You've always been weak. Even now, letting down your guard because of what? A stupid prick who dares interfere with **_**our**_** business, and a fancy talking foreign bitch? You were right to turn her down; she can't help you. **

_Get- Shut up! I won't let you win this, you- No-_

**I'm so fucking sick of listening to you whine, boyo. It was funny for a while, but it's time to grow up. I'm taking over, Reid-ikins. Thought I was gone, eh? Thought I left you all by your onesies?**

It was furious now, a fast stream of hate.

**Well, you thought wrong. Fuck California; you won't get there alive. **_**I**_** will, though... Oh, yes. Kat's going there, did you know? Vicious Kat with her pretty body... You've seen that body. You've tasted her. Not like I did, though... And not like I **_**will**_**, either. I'll eat her right up, boyo. You'll **_**love**_** it.**

"Help! Someone help us!" Regina looked around, searching for the man who'd offered to kick the blond boy's scrawny American ass. He was gone. The parking lot of the rest area was empty. She opened her mouth to scream again and a hand, painfully cold but strong as iron, clamped over her mouth. Reid was looking at her, his eyes a weird, horrifying mix of icy blue, hellish red and an even more terrible black. The colors swirled, visible reminders of the battle that seemed to be taking place inside the boy's skull. When he spoke, it was a guttural hiss.

"_Don't get help._" She stared at him, wide-eyed, uncertain. What the hell was going on? Reid choked in a breath, his chest jerking. "_California_," he whispered. "_Gotta- California._"

And then, the psychedelic swirl of colors in his eyes solidified into a dark hue of blue, a kind of compromise, and rolled back. Reid's hand fell away from her mouth, leaving an angry imprint against her skin, and the boy from Ipswich was out of commission.

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"So here's the plan," Kat murmured to herself, flexing her fingers and stretching. She was making her way towards the doors leading out of the terminal and out of the airport itself. "Mary hunted me here, in Agora. That means she must have been close, to know about me. And that means the rest of them are close, too. The coven. That must be why Reid's coming here; to find out what happened to him. So I'll find them first, and we'll figure out a way to fix this before he even gets here." Optimism at its best. She half-smiled to herself, rubbing at a nagging itch from the place where, logistically, she should have been covered with bandages: the bullet scar on her chest. The touch, which she could feel through her sweatshirt and the t-shirt she had on under it, brought a sense memory of that dream...

_Fingers on her._

She shuddered, half in pleasure, half in discomfort. Despite how good that phantom touch had felt, Kat discovered that she would not be at all displeased if she never had a dream like that again. She dropped her hand from her chest, using it to straight-arm open the wide glass doors that led out into the sunny California air.

Kat looked around, her bag slung over one shoulder, taking in the sights she had left behind what seemed like a lifetime ago, when she first came to the East Coast. Agora hadn't changed a bit. Same old clear skies, same old elderly women selling hotdogs by the doors to the airport. The line of taxis idling at the curb made her remember what she'd come for, and Kat glanced at the huge new-art clock on the side of the airport's main entrance. Twenty minutes ago, she had made a call. They didn't live far, or at least, they hadn't when she'd left...

And, cue.

"Kitty! Honey, we came as soon as we heard from you." Kat bit her lip, forcing back the automatic urge to correct the woman. She turned, plastering a smile on her face, making sure that she held her bag in a way that hid the remaining bandages on her palms.

"Hi, Mom."


	9. Reunion

Chapter 9: Coming Home?

**Sorry, guys, I've been trying to upload this for a couple of days. The site is messed up, or something... it kept not letting me.**

_Across the sky  
I will come for you  
If you ask me to  
Demystify  
Your uncommon dreams  
Stranger things have come true_

_- 'Across the Sky', Emilie Autumn (an excellent song)_

When Kat was very small, her mother had loved to take her little hand mirror and hold it up in front of her, taking Kat's round little chin in her hand and squeezing it close to her own so that both their two faces could be seen in the circle of glass meant for only one. She had smiled, her cheek pressing against Kat's, and Kat had felt obligated to smile as well. Even when she was a child, she'd understood, somehow, that this ritual was something that her mother needed to do. Smiling back seemed like a gift, easy to give. Still, she'd always felt just a little uncomfortable when her mother did this, as if she were nothing but a doll being propped into the right place.

And then, when Kat was ten, she'd walked into her parents' room and found her mommy sitting in front of the vanity, staring at her lone face in the much larger mirror, a small pile of whitish powder on the counter before her.

That, Kat now thought, had been the beginning of the end. Drugs were only the catalyst that, after six more years of dealing with each other, finally shoved her parents apart for good. Kat knew that any shrink worth his salt would say that that was the reason she hated her mother: that betrayal, at such a young age, had started a landslide.

Which was bullshit.

Truth was, Kat _didn't_ hate her mom. It was more... disgust. Maybe some shame. A whole heaping of contempt.

Now, looking at the woman standing before her, Kat felt her face stretch into the familiar forced smile, the lines and angles of her features pulling themselves into line.

Mattie Kessler was thinner than Kat remembered, even though it had only been a little less than a year since they'd seen each other last. Her hair, as dark and thick as Kat's herself, was newly short. It feathered around her head in a gelled pixie cut that looked strangely out of place. Her arms were crossed, her hands cupping the opposite elbow.

Beside her was the other half of the 'we': a tall, average-looking man who Kat assumed was Thomas Rainier, the man that her mom had theoretically left her father for, and that Kat had never met.

There was an awkward pause.

"Kitty, it's nice to finally meet you," the man said. "I'm Tom Rainier."

Right in one.

"It's Kat," Kat said.

"What?"

"My name. It's Kat, not Kitty." Her mother grimaced, but said nothing. Tom Rainier shrugged.

"Sure, Kat. Whatever you want. Anyway, your mother and I are happy to let you stay with us for – How long did you say you were coming for?"

"I didn't," Kat replied.

"Don't be bitchy," Mattie admonished softly. Kat looked at her.

"What? It's not like I lied or anything, Mattie."

"Please don't call me that."

"Why not? It's your name. I want to be called by my name, so why shouldn't you be called by yours?"

"Because I am your mother." Kat decided to let that one slide, figuring she had antagonized them both enough for the first five minutes.

"Fine. Well, thanks for letting me stay. I only really need a place to sleep, so you probably won't be seeing me much. Don't let me get in the way."

"You aren't-"

"That'll be fine, Kat," Tom interrupted, glancing at the shorter woman beside him. She fell instantly silent. Kat frowned a little, but let Tom point the way to the hour-long parking lot where he pressed a keypad and unlocked a powder blue Camry.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Kat muttered beneath her breath, but dropped her bag onto one side of the back seat and slid in on the other. The ride to where her mother and this stranger lived was short, but the fifteen minutes of silence was agonizing. Kat sighed, closing her eyes and trying to think about Reid. She was doing this for him. He'd better damn well appreciate it.

The house was the same, a neat little suburban deal with a nicely-kempt lawn and a little block of garden flanking the front door. A cheery bell rang somewhere in the house when Mattie pushed the door open. Kat paused in the small foyer briefly, noting the places where pictures had once hung and were now gone.

"Your old room is more or less the same," her mother said, gesturing with her head towards the staircase. "The bed might need new sheets."

"Whatever," Kat threw over her shoulder, climbing the stairs and taking the few steps to the first door on the right. There was a bathroom across the hall, and a closet at the very end. If everything was really the same, then Tom and Mattie would be sleeping two doors down on the left.

Kat pushed her door open, dropping her bag and surveying her territory. The posters she'd had on her ceiling (Evanescence, Muse, Three Days Grace, Kiss) were gone. The faux-wood-framed painting of a woman naked from the waist down, her back to the viewer, still hung above the window. There was still a patch of wall covered by multicolored handprints, the acrylic paint they'd been made with long since dry.

Her bed rested against the far wall, facing the door, and her desk was pushed up in the corner to the right of the bed. There was still a cordless phone plugged into a holster on the desktop. Other than that, the room was empty.

"Yeah," Kat said on another sigh. "More or less the same."

She kicked her bag a little further into the room, reached into her pocket to pull out the folded piece of paper she'd shoved in there what seemed like so long ago, and plucked the phone out of its rest.

Reading the string of numbers written on the paper, Kat dialed and waited. After a long moment of tenuous connection, Caleb's voice came on the line.

"Hello?"

"Hey. It's me."

"Where are you?" She looked around, once again taking in the mostly-blank walls, the stale-looking bed, the clean desk.

"I'm not sure," she murmured.

"What?"

"California," Kat said, louder. "Sorry. I'm in Agora. My hometown." She lowered her voice. "This is where Mary Harcortte first started hunting me, so I thought it would be a good place to start. Also, I can stay with my mom and that'll give me a bit more freedom than if I had to hide out in some hotel."

"Yeah, cool," Caleb said, sounding a little distracted. "Agora with two 'a's?"

"Right."

"Ok. Ok. So we've managed to prove that Mary kidnapped you. Or at least that we didn't have anything to do with it."

"Oh, good. How'd you do that?"

"Well, there's your dad. He's helped us out a lot. Did you tell him anything?"

"...No," Kat said finally, guilt seeping in. "Just that I knew what I was doing."

"Uh-huh. Well, don't worry; we haven't let anything slip. But he's assured the cops that he talked to me right after you went missing, and that he helped me and the others organize a search team during the time you were being held. The times match up so that we couldn't possibly have gotten you to that house and gotten back to your dad in time. So that's good. We're still working on the whole murder thing..." The mournful tone in his voice made Kat laugh despite herself.

"Sorry, sorry."

"Any news on your front?"

"Other than that I'm here? No. Well, wait. When I was in the airport, some guy attacked me."

"_What_?"

"No, no, I didn't know him. I don't think it had anything to do with... But... I dunno, it was just weird. And there was this dream..."

"A dream?" Kat blushed.

"Never mind. Just me going crazy."

"We've got enough crazy folks around here, thanks," Caleb snapped in what should have been a joking tone... but it fell somehow short. "Listen, you – ok, we – don't really know what Reid is capable of. We don't know what he wants, or whether or not he's even in control at this point. And if he's not... Those powers are scary, Kat, when they're unleashed. He could get into your mind easily." With a shiver, Kat remembered the fight with Reid when he'd put that image into her head, so quickly and effortlessly. _The dream..._

"Yeah," she said shortly.

"Just watch yourself. And call me if anything else strange happens. If anything feels weird to you, or not right, or if you see something that shouldn't be, you know?"

"Check."

"Ok." There was the tense, but not entirely awkward, silence that meant that the conversation was over. Kat could tell that Caleb was trying to figure out how to say goodbye, and did it for him.

"Watch your back, Magic Boy. All you guys."

"You too." She hung up, dropping the phone back into its holster. Kat folded her arms, rubbing them with cold hands. Her cut palms throbbed mildly.

"Ok," she said aloud to herself. "Let's find some witches."


	10. Escalation

Chapter 10: Dreams and Lies

_Today, I thought I saw you…_

_Why does it all seem so very strange?_

_I'm haunted by these things._

_Have I gone mad, or maybe insane?_

_- 'Haunted', Coven 13/Seven 13 (not sure why they changed their name) _

**Hey, guess what? I have come up with an elaborate (if somewhat pathetic) scheme to get you guys to review! If 10 people review this chapter, I will write a ficlet involving Reid and Kat. There could be alcohol. There could be lemony goodness. Basically, I'm bribing you. Cool, huh? (Yes, I can write fanfiction about my fanfiction, because I am just that awesome.) Feel free to drop a line telling me what a stupid scheme this was, too...**

_Kat is walking towards him across a great field, a field of gray cats and winged flowers that smell like rain. Her feet do not touch the ground, but he can see the shadows of paws trailing behind her. She is wearing fur, or maybe nothing at all, and it is only a trick of this strange halflight that makes him see a pelt. _

_She smiles at him, her hands reaching out, somehow close enough to touch him, now. Her hair is long and wild, but it seems to him that, if he were to stroke a hand across her head, he would feel choppy remnants of the length he sees before him. Her mouth is red, red like blood._

"_Come here, babe," she says, that throaty rasp in her voice. Her fingers trace his cheeks, and he finds himself flying._

_He kisses her, numbly, and she bites his lip just hard enough to make him gasp. He feels her press against him, her lithe body stronger than it looks, the muscles of her abdomen powerful against his hands. She is warm, living, so solid and present. He looks into her eyes, kissing her, and realizes that they are not really kissing but _fighting_, struggling against each other, her yellowgold eyes burning against the gray backdrop as the cats crowd around on silver clouds._

_He breaks away, and they are flung apart, a writhing force between them. Black smoke whirls from his mouth to hers, a connection that drips crimson condensation. She _is_ naked, he sees, but proud in her nakedness. Somehow, nude, she is a goddess. Her back arches, and he sees that she is a wolf, or a woman, but a wolf, or_

_and_

"_I loved you," she says now, her _

_(paws)_

_hands clenching, threatening. She tosses her head, her long hair_

_(fur)_

_whipping back._

"_And you let_

_me_

_die."_

_And he is dreaming, he knows he is dreaming, but Reid still cannot seem to wake up._

_The dream shifts now, the multitudes of cats that swarm around their feet stretching and molding like nightmarish wax figures set alight, their bland features elongating as the tallow of their fur and skin pulls itself into surrealism. Reid watches in horror as the cat-things slash at each other. They are at least four feet tall now, standing on two misshapen legs, what should have been their forearms now grotesquely lengthened and swinging at their oddly-jointed knees. The faces… the faces are pointed, sharp, the mouths dropping open to reveal tongues like fishhooks. The eyes, Reid sees, are bluish-white and blind._

_Backing up, he trips over one of the things, the black swarm of badness that connects him to Kat dissipating. Kat, he sees now, is gone, her scream still echoing in his ears. Reid screams too as the cat-things jab at his waist and neck with their barbed tongues. He searches for a sign of the woman-wolf he _

_(loves)_

_can no longer find, catching sight of a pale, blood-streaked hand and arm emerging from the wash of grayish creatures. Kat's fingers are too long, too strong-looking, to be real, but he knows they are hers. They clutch at the air wildly, and it seems to Reid as if the pain from the things' teeth on him is far off and distant compared to the vividness of the blood streaming from the torn fingernails of that desperate, seeking hand._

_He tries to stand, but there is a pressure in his chest, deep in, and a voice from somewhere inside is laughing, and Kat's hand is suddenly torn nearly in two as one of the cat-things attacks it and rips three of her fingers away. There is a piercing shriek of pain from beneath the swell of fur, and then the arm vanishes, swept beneath._

_Reid hears himself screaming, and then the scream is cut off without warning. The cat-things are gone, Kat is gone, the field is gone. He is floating on his back in a clear lake, looking up at a purple sky._

_Somewhere, someone is singing._

88888888

Regina looked warily at the unconscious boy slumped in the passenger seat beside her. He was twitching, his lips tightening and relaxing as if on a timer. She'd reclined the seat as much as it would allow, letting him sprawl at a loose angle as opposed to the sharp 90 degrees of her own seat. His legs were too long to really fit in the compartment beneath the consol, but she hadn't been able to find the button or lever that would move the seatback, so he would just have to deal with it. She snorted. It wasn't exactly as if he was feeling _any_ discomfort at the moment, anyway.

She'd managed to push and shove the American across the divider between the driver's and passenger's seats, doing her best to keep from letting his head smash against the window. Regina glanced at him again, noting the elegant line of his nose, the wide sweep of cheekbones, and the thick, white-blond hair. He was, she realized belatedly, what her sister would call '_mignon'_. Celeste rarely doled out such titles, and for some reason refused to use any word stronger than 'cute' for boys, but this particular boy would definitely warrant the compliment. Regina cocked her head, allowing her mind to briefly wander. She wondered what Reid Garwin would look like as a woman. It wasn't hard to imagine; his features were delicate already despite the obvious strength in his sinewy arms. The hair would probably be longer, or maybe short and spiky. Yes. Girl-Reid would be punkish, and would probably have an eyebrow piercing.

Regina laughed a little at the image this train of thought conjured up: a tall, slender woman with tight leather pants and a black jacket, short white-blond hair spiked above the pale, devilish face. She shook her head. She really had to stop doing that, she knew, but it was compulsive. She had yet to meet a woman who met all her standards, and she couldn't help transforming the attractive men she met into females just to compare.

The sign for the airport came up on her right, and Regina flicked the turn signal of Reid's car. His last words, before falling into this semicomatose state, had more or less told her to get them to California, so that was what she was going to do. She had some money, and when she'd checked his wallet, so did he. Regina wondered why he wasn't flying already. Were the police after him? Was he afraid his credit trail would be traced? She knew she should probably call the Ward and get them to find out the situation in Ipswich, but she couldn't quite bring herself to do it. Regina had made her choice, and she knew she had to stick by it.

Regina pulled into the first parking lot she saw, cruising the aisles until she found a slot. The airport was a small-town deal, and it didn't take her long to realize that this parking lot was the _only_ parking lot. Thankfully, it was right in front of the airport itself.

The only question was, how was she going to get an unconscious young man who weighed at least fifty pounds more than she did out of the car, into the airport, and onto a plane?

Regina got out of the car, looking around her. This was something that could turn into a major problem, one she hadn't really considered when she made the split-second decision to toss the rulebook over her shoulder and slide into the driver's seat of Reid Garwin's expensive car. Her eye caught on a small white sign a few rows down, and held there. An idea formed.

"Now," she mused aloud, her English coming out low but clear. "Where to find a wheelchair?"

888888

Regina smiled confidently at the man behind the counter, her French ID card and passport on the Formica.

"And… you are seeing your cousin's doctor in California?"

"Oui," Regina said sweetly, letting her accent take over. "I 'ave brought 'im all the way from France, to see this specialiste." The man nodded slowly.

"I'm still going to need to see his passport, ma'am."

"'E does not 'ave one," she said sadly. "It is a law in France, you see. Small babies, they 'ave no passports, oui? It is the same with… those with problems, in the head, you know?" The teller blushed a bit, embarrassed for the poor French girl and her retarded cousin sprawled in the wheelchair behind her.

"I see," he said quickly, and Regina's smile widened. He knew nothing about France, as she'd expected. "I'm… Well, we've got a flight right away, actually. It leaves in about an hour. Are you inter-"

"I'll take it, merci."

And, passing over the money she had left in her wallet plus that which she'd gotten from Reid's at the ATM machine, Regina had two tickets to Los Angeles, California.

She thanked the man once more before turning to the wheelchair where Reid was still out like a light, pushing it gently ahead of her. Her heart was racing, but her steps were measured and calm.

"Good boy," she murmured to the blond head that lolled briefly against her hands. "Just stay asleep, and everything will be fine." Regina wasn't at all sure if that was true, but she _was_ certain that if Reid woke up and had another… episode… of thrashing and shouting and changing his eye color all over the place, they would both be in a lot more trouble than she'd get in if anyone ever found out who had stolen the wheelchair leaning against the back of a taxi just outside as its owners paused to pay the driver.


	11. Strange

**Holy tapdancing monkeys, guys! I am SO sorry for taking forever to update! I honestly did not even realize that it had been so freakin' long.**

Chapter 11

Kat's hands were healing nicely. The cuts and serrated slashes across her palms were closed, the pads of her fingers knitting together like strange, fleshy yarn. While she was glad of that, it was a bit annoying that neither her mother nor the man she was living with had commented on either the bandages or the lack of bandages.

After all, it had been two days already, so the fact that her hands had been completely covered when she arrived and were now uncovered (if scabby) should not have been exactly difficult to note.

Two days.

"Goddamnit," Kat muttered aloud, running the fingers of her left hand through her hair. Snarking at her mother over something stupid like noticing bandages (after all, this _is _the mother who snorted crack in front of her own kid, right?) was a thin shield, and a faulty one.

Two days, and nothing.

Not one little scrap.

She wasn't sure what she'd thought. That she'd get to sunny ol' Cali, and whambamshebang, there they'd be, just waiting for her? Kat shook her head, laughing to herself. Sure thing, babe. Right after Reid shows up, all healthy-like and unpossessed.

But still, two days of hunting and searching and remembering and _nothing_ at all to show for it.

_Chill, Kat, you're not magic. You're not a Son. You can't just beam to wherever you wanna go._

But even her own mind wasn't fully on her side. See, beneath that comfort, beneath that reminder of her own vulnerability, there was another little part that was saying _Sure, sure, you're not magic. You're not human, either. You're a wolf, child, and hunting down these witches shouldn't be hard, should it? You being _so_ good at sniffing up trouble and all..._

But in the end, neither sides of her won over. Instead, Kat lifted her chin and cracked her neck, rolling her shoulders defiantly. They were here somewhere. They had to be. _Besides,_ she thought grimly, _even if Reid's life _didn't_ hang in this pretty little equation, I'm going to find that coven out of stubbornness alone._

Turning away from the window in her stale, made-up bedroom, Kat went to the door and through it. It was early afternoon. Plenty of time to get out and do a little more trolling.

Passing the kitchen on her way to the door, Kat's nostrils flared involuntarily at the strong, heavy scent of tomato sauce. Pausing, she glanced through the doorframe to see Tom, humming lightly to himself, stirring a pot of something red and bubbly. Oh so domestic, Tom was.

"Kat," he called, seeing her. The jovial tone in his voice made her stomach tighten. She'd managed to avoid spending much actual physical time with either Tom _or_ Mattie, not that that excused their lack of observational powers, but Kat wasn't quite able to bring herself to outright ignore the man when he was speaking directly to her.

"Hey, Tom," she said coolly, scrubbing her palms down the tops of her thighs. "Spaghetti?"

"How'd you guess?" There was an instant where Kat wasn't actually sure whether he was joking or not, and when he didn't smile, she cleared her throat and tapped her nose. "Of course, of course." He turned back to the stove. Kat took a step, and then paused again.

"Where's Mattie?"

"Your mother is at work," he replied, big hands stirring the pot. He held the long wooden spoon like a sword, gripping the end tightly. Kat's eyes followed it around the rim, darting up to catch the arching flicks of sauce that hopped and spit out of the boiling mix. "That's why I'm making dinner tonight, Kat."

"Right. Sure." She did leave then, but there was a funny sort of dropping in her belly, as if a small eel of flesh and electricity had wormed its way into her gut.

888888888888

He woke up, on the plane. Or seemed to, anyway. Regina, her heart hammering through the entire liftoff sequence, had kept one hand firmly on Reid's still forearm, her fingers wrapped around the tendons and bone beneath the cold, roughened skin. Once, the plane jostled a bit, and his pulse jumped, and she nearly yelped.

And then there was an in-flight movie, and she was distracted.

And then there was a meal, which she ate, not really tasting it.

And then Reid opened his eyes.

She'd been asleep, actually. Almost. When it happened. Her head, lolling to one side, had been just about to fall onto his slack shoulder.

When those eyes, those piercing bluegray eyes-

They met hers, without warning, and Regina sat up so fast she nearly got whiplash.

"Reid," she whispered, glancing hurriedly around. The other passengers around them were silent, or chatting, or dead to the world. Not caring. The boy beside her didn't say a word. Didn't blink. Didn't even really seem to see her.

Whatever it was that he _did_ see, though...

It took her a moment to recognize, you understand. She wasn't sure what to do. What was happening. It took her a moment to _see_ that he was _shaking_. No, not shaking. Not shaking, or shivering, or shuddering. _Vibrating._ His entire body, from the fine blond hairs on his skull to the creases in his jeans, everything was vibrating so violently that it was almost impossible to notice. And he still hadn't blinked.

_Oh mon Dieu, ne m'abandonnez pas, _she thought rapidly, crazily. Those eyes. _He is seeing _something_, and it just might be Hell._

The pupils dilated as she watched, dilated and contracted, dilated and contracted. A dance. A rhythm. It pulsated there, in those few seconds that very nearly lasted longer than Regina could bear. His throat hummed with the vibrations of his very pores, a strange, eerie, just-below-your-skin kind of noise. The kind of noise ten thousand bees would make as they suffocated, muted beneath their own death shrouds.

And then it was over.

Just as suddenly as it had begun, the vibrating stopped. Reid's body slumped back slightly, relaxing, and his lids slid shut. Long lashes played against his cheeks, so innocent. Somehow, that was the most horrifying thing of all.

Somehow, it was that sight- _oh, lashes, count the lashes, all in a row_ – that made Regina wonder, genuinely, what the fuck she had gotten herself into.

But they would be in California soon. Four more hours. And once they were there, she would find a way to wake Reid up without- without causing another of those _fits_, and find out what they were doing on the other side of the continental United States in the first place.


	12. Lemony Goodness! As Promised

**Aaaaand, a Lemon!**

**This is going to be set after Reid finds out Kat is a werewolf. Do you know the scene I'm thinking of? Yeah, it's the one where she's naked on his couch. Come on, guys. We all know we wanted more. (Yes, even me, and I'm the author!)**

The walls were bland. White. No, not white. More a... light skintone, maybe? Kat tilted her head, narrowing her eyes, and then caught herself and nearly snorted aloud. What the hell was she doing, assessing the decorating skillz of one Mrs. Garwin?!

Garwin.

Decorating.

Ah, yes.

The reason she was putting real effort into figuring out the exact shade of the wallpaper of Mrs. Garwin's home was... slightly less amusing. _Oh, come on, Kat. Who are you trying to fool? You're in Reid's house, on his sofa, covered by his blanket. And you're naked._

"Perfect," Kat mumbled. "My own brain is against me."

Thank god he was out of the room. Thank god he hadn't seen her Change back. Thank god he-

Was right there, actually.

Kat gulped as discreetly as possible, blinking up at him. Reid Garwin himself, Asshole and Life-Saver Extraordinaire, was standing in the doorway leading out of whatever room he'd left her in, holding what looked like disinfectant and a stack of prepackaged bandages._ Red Cross approved, of course_, was what Kat was thinking. Or no, actually, _Oh SHIT_ was more along the lines of what Kat was thinking.

Because, of course, that was the _other_ part. The whole 'I've been shot in the shoulder' part. Grazed. Whatever. Point was, there was blood. A cut. That required major band-aid action. On... her back.

Her naked back.

Because she was naked.

_Oh, GOD, get over it, already! You're a werewolf, girl, you don't care about human rules!_

_But... Reid._

And that was about as far as she got before he was right beside her, kneeling, reaching out to pull away the blanket. And he'd even gone so far as to throw out a pithy remark about how she was _bleeding_ on his plaid, or whatever this scratchy thing was supposed to be!

Kat huffed, turning her torso to bare her back to him.

"This is gonna-"

"If you say 'sting', I'll bite you," she grumbled. As soon as she said it, she knew it was a mistake. She could practically _feel_ his smirk.

"Promise?"

"What, does _nothing_ faze you?"

"Not really," he replied calmly, and then there was coldness against the wound and damn it, it did sting.

Not that she admitted that, obviously.

"After all," Reid went on, "when you've seen what I have, it's hard to be surprised." He paused. "Although, I gotta say, that kiss you laid on me was a defin-"

"Is it your main goal, your main _drive_ in life to get disemboweled?" Although her voice came with a definite snap, Kat couldn't help but feel that she was losing this little skirmish and fast. Reid laughed aloud.

"What, by you? Baby, that wouldn't be very grateful of you. Not only did I save your hide, literally, but I'm even patchin' you up back here. Come to think of it, I think that deserves a little sugar, don't you?"

"Maybe in your dreams," she sniffed, and then let out an involuntary yelp when the nail of one of his fingers scraped the edge of her cut. Reid didn't apologize, but when he spoke next, the light humor was gone from his tone.

"So, on the subject of patchin' you up. Wanna tell me just who the hell I saved you _from_ back there? Or what? And while we're at it, how about a little explanation of the whole "I turn into a big furry wolf at random intervals" thing?" Kat sighed, twisting her back a little as he taped on gauze. She heard his breath catch slightly, and decided that it was best to just get this naked thing taken care of as soon as possible.

"I'm a werewolf."

"Got that, yeah."

"And I'm being hunted."

"Oddly enough, that did manage to sink in, too." Despite the sarcasm in his words, Kat could sense the somberness behind them.

"You happened to be at the right place at the... wrong time, really. But right for me, I guess. And that brings us to round two, Mr. Garwin," she continued, using the same careful sarcasm that he was employing. "What exactly did _you_ do back there?"

"Magic," he replied simply, patting her on the back. "All done." Turning to face him, holding the blanket over her chest with one arm, Kat pushed her hair away from her face.

"Magic, huh?"

"Oh, yeah." It occurred to her then that she was sitting on the couch, with him kneeling in front of her knees, their faces merely inches apart. She remembered, suddenly, the taste of him.

"Shit," Kat said.

"Problem?" Only now, he didn't sound that somber. Now, he sounded-

"Don't look at me like that, man," she said, stalling. "I just wanted to thank you, I guess... For-"

"Saving your life?"

"Yeah."

"Sugar."

"What?" Her back hurt, but it didn't really hurt, so she couldn't focus her attention on the pain. She was tired and scared, but she felt so goddamn _safe_ here with him that she couldn't focus on _that_, either. And the fact that she did feel safe with Reid Garwin probably pissed her off more than anything, even more than the way he was staring at her mouth, now, with those blue eyes and that-

"I told you when I saved you, babe," he added. "I'm an asshole." She cleared her throat.

"Uh-huh."

"I don't do anything," Reid said, putting down the bottle of disinfectant, "without a price."

"Well, your _price_ can go shove itself up..." She stopped, because it was at about that point when Reid's hands found their way around to the back of her neck, making sure to avoid brushing the top of her bandage, and pulled her head down to meet his.

The kiss in the club had been hard and hot and fiery. It had been up-against-a-wall passionate.

The kiss on the couch was a whole 'nother enchilada.

Reid's lips were softer than she remembered, even from just an hour or so ago. Warm, too. Coaxing. He kissed her like she was chocolate sauce, thick as molasses, slow to flow but oh-so-heavenly. He kissed her, and Kat was fully aware of the blanket falling as her arms went to wrap around his neck, and he kissed her, and she kissed him back.

One hand smoothed down her bare spine, just barely skimming the hurt part, sending tingles across her skin and making the fine, downy hairs on the back of her neck stand up straight. His t-shirt was thin and cottony against her breasts, and Kat could feel the warmth of him through the material. Reid, not breaking the kiss, managed to get a knee up onto the couch and then swing his body up off the floor, straddling her across the thighs, supporting her back.

They broke apart, breathless, wide-eyed. Kat, beneath him, swallowed.

And then.

"More."

They kissed again, moving beyond the mouth, and Reid saw Kat's eyes glow goldenamber. He didn't say a word. She let her head fall back as he traced the vein in her throat, not passing her collarbone, her own fingers kneading at his back. The blanket was pooled in her lap, covering her from the waist down, but god only knew how long _that_ would-

He found the hollow of her throat, where the tendons met, and licked it. Kat gasped, her head whipping up, her ever-so-slightly-too-sharp teeth catching the rim of his ear and tugging just hard enough to make him grin, grin like she grinned, all teeth and mouth and hunger.

"Oh god," Kat breathed, feeling the shuddering rush of the Change, a painful ecstasy, but she did not Change. Human, she kissed him.

Partly human, she-

"Hello? Anybody there?" Reid jerked up, flinging himself to the other side of the couch. Kat snatched at the blanket, drawing it up to her chin as the blond boy stood swiftly and half-walked, half-ran to where someone was stepping into the foyer. Glancing over his shoulder, hair mussed and eyes just a tad bit wild, Reid called,

"It's Caleb. God bless the fuckin' cavalry."


End file.
